It's Not a Happy Ending
by Monchy
Summary: "Sebastian smells nice, of warmth, cologne and a touch of liquor. Kurt's hyperaware of his presence for some reason, unused to this quiet, incomprehensible part of Sebastian." Future!Fic


**It's Not a Happy Ending**

It starts at Blaine's wedding, which shouldn't be surprising, since Blaine seems to be a constant catalyst in his life.

It's a lovely affair, simple and quiet, organized in a room full of white flowers and soft lighting. Blaine looks as handsome as ever, like a vision out of an old movie, and Kurt feels a pang of nostalgia hit him with every smile that isn't directed his way. And it isn't that he wants Blaine back – God knows they had tried their best, really, and it had only cost them pain – but a part of him wants that feeling back, that wonder of Blaine taking his hand and running down a hallway, careless and free.

Tom, Blaine's recent husband, is handsome himself, in that blonde surfer kind of way. He's nice in a way that rivals Blaine's own, a little on the dumb side and completely unaware of fashion, but charming enough to pull it off. He has been with Blaine for almost two years now, so the marriage hadn't been so much an _if_ as it had been a _when._

Kurt finds himself staring at the pair on the dance floor, Blaine guiding the steps easily and Tom trying to follow. _God_, but the man's dancing is comparable to Finn's, and he still manages to look somewhat adorable. It's at the end of his tired and half-annoyed sigh that Sebastian appears next to him, scotch in hand and smirk in place.

"Wondering what might have been, Hummel?" he asks.

Kurt doesn't even bother turning his way, keeping his eyes on the dance floor instead. "Can we _not_, Seb? Not today."

"Too tired for my brand of witty insulting?"

Kurt's forced to produce a second tired sigh, which Sebastian seems to take as his cue to shut up. He stays close, though, drinking quietly.

Somewhere in the room, Sebastian's own husband is excitedly telling a story to a Rachel that can't look more like a deer caught in headlights. But, as it is well known among them by now, Sebastian's paramour and his excitement are rather hard to escape. Now _that_ is a match Kurt will never understand. Then again, a husband is a husband, and it's more than Kurt seems to be destined to have.

His thoughts take him to Rob then, and he guesses it was unavoidable. He gives himself a second to wallow in the misery of losing two years of his life with a man who had been cheating almost from second one, but who had been smart enough to fool Kurt into believing that he was _the one. _Fuck Rob, and fuck his wedding nostalgia.

Kurt turns Sebastian's way, steals his glass and empties the contents in one long swallow. The whisky is bitter and not his drink of choice at all, but at this point he can't bring himself to care.

Sebastian whistles.

"Easy there, cowboy."

"Dance with me," Kurt requests suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"Dance with me, Seb, before I drive myself crazy."

Sebastian complies, the thought of making some kind of comment about his irresistible and charming self etched into the corner of his mouth. He says nothing, though, and guides Kurt to the dance floor and then into his arms. Kurt, feeling warm all over after stepping into the circle of Sebastian's arms, blames the feeling on the alcohol and the nostalgia. The sudden and sharp feeling of arousal he blames on the fact that he hasn't been held by a man this handsome in a very long time. The comfort he chooses to ignore.

* * *

Sebastian had come back into their lives no more than a year before Blaine got married. He'd run into Rachel at some Broadway event, and apparently they had hit it off immediately. It may or may not had had something to do with the fact that Sebastian was looking into using some of his family fortune to invest on musical theater, and that Rachel was the most promising star New York had seen in the past decade.

Whatever the case, Sebastian Smythe, bored lawyer with too much money, an annoying husband and a tired tilt to his smile, had become a permanent fixture in their lives.

When Rachel had told him about her run in with him, it had actually taken Kurt a few seconds before the name had clicked. ("Sebastian?" he'd asked, confused. "Oh… Smythe?). Thinking about high-school and everything that came attached to it was something that Kurt didn't like to do too much, so the memory of Sebastian had been lost somewhere in the pile labeled _let's just not go there again._ That pile was composed by the clusterfuck that had been his relationship with Blaine (cheating and distance and getting back together and mistrust and hurting each other with sharp words), the Karofsky debacle and having felt some kind of attraction towards Finn.

Fitting Sebastian into their lives hadn't been entirely difficult. Blaine had welcomed him with open arms and words of second chances, Rachel had put him in her list of favorite people when he'd taken care of her having all kinds of artistic freedom in the couple of shows his dad's money had helped him produce, and Kurt had developed an strangely comfortable relationship of sharp words and truth with him in no time.

There was a shadow in Sebastian of what his seventeen year old had been – cocky, impulsive and offensive – but he was sadder somehow, as if weighed by an unwanted life. He drank a lot, and what in his youth had been snarky comments, now sounded like cynical critics. The husband that he came with, jumpy, excited, annoying and entirely too attached to Kurt – _OMG, Seb, you know Kurt Hummel? THE Kurt Hummel? I loooooove your designs _– was perhaps the most disconcerting thing of this older Sebastian. It had been mentioned just the once, after Kurt's prodding, and the answer they've gotten had been:

"Daddy approved."

* * *

After the wedding, catching sight of Blaine is almost a miracle. Kurt's understanding to a point, but when Blaine bails on their plans to go see an art show for a _Die Hard _marathon with his husband, Kurt huffs and barely stops himself from throwing a hissy fit.

"_Die Hard_, Blaine? Really?"

"You have to admit that Bruce Willis _is_ kind of hot and–"

"Oh, God. It's like I don't even know you anymore."

Kurt goes to the show anyway, fabulous and single, allegedly the best state to be while living in New York. He's been looking forward to it for months, the artist being a fan of his designs that had been kind enough to insist on his attendance to the opening of his first show. Kurt still gets a thrill whenever he realizes that he's somewhat of a name in fashion, that people may not know his face but know his clothes, and actually have good things to say about them.

The art is abstract, the kind that Kurt doesn't fully understand but can definitely appreciate, and the room is packed with some of New York's finest. It's easy to glide his way through the room, saying quick hellos to some familiar faces and stopping for a while to chat with the artist and properly flatter his work. Kurt loves this, the easiness of this life that feels like the one he's truly meant to live. Sometimes, he still finds himself overwhelmed with how far he's gotten from his origins, even if his dreams have changed a lot in his journey.

After a couple of hours of mindless chit chat, Kurt finds his way to the balcony outside, where he's fairly surprised to find a distraught Sebastian.

"Didn't take you for the artsy type," he says as hello.

Sebastian snorts, taking a short sip of his drink even when he's clearly already drunk. "I hate these things. It's Drew," he says, pointing into the room as if Kurt could find his husband among the crowd. "Haven't you seen him? Prancing around as if he knows anything about art. We'll end up buying a couple of paintings, as if any of us cares or knows a thing."

The derision and disgust is clear in Sebastian's voice, but Kurt chooses not to comment on it. Drunken Sebastian can easily turn into mean Sebastian, and Kurt actually appreciates the simple flow of what could be called friendship between them. No point in upsetting the status quo.

"It's a nice show, you know?" Kurt replies after a while. He walks closer to Sebastian, presses his hand to the glass that he's holding. It's cold and wet, unpleasant in the outside fall weather. "Come see it with me," Kurt says.

"I don't need your charity, Hummel. Enjoy your show without me."

Kurt rolls his eyes, pulling from the glass until it escapes from Sebastian's grasp. "Stop the pity party, Seb, it doesn't become you, and come see the show with me."

Sebastian stares at him, hard eyes that remind Kurt of being at the Lima Bean and feeling threatened. He wants to think that there's nothing scary about the drunken mess that Sebastian is tonight, but he can't shake the quiet feeling of intimidation that he can taste in the small space that separates them. There will always be something slightly predatory about Sebastian, no matter his state. Kurt stands his ground, though, and in the end, Sebastian deflates.

"Fine."

"Come on, I'll show you my favorite."

They avoid the corner of the room in which Drew's voice is audible, and walk among the crowd at a steady pace. A part of Kurt wants to stretch his arm back and reach for Sebastian's hand, but he stops himself from doing such a thing. When they get to his favorite painting, they stand very close, though, Sebastian a column of heat at his back. Kurt tells himself that it's only to avoid getting separated by the crowd.

"So, is it any good?" asks Sebastian after a while.

Kurt can't even tell if Sebastian is looking at the colorful piece before them, much less at him, but he starts his answer with a shrug.

"I don't really know, but I like the colors. They're very expressive."

Sebastian snorts behind him. "You would. God forbid you ever go for something serious and sober, Kurt."

"You mean like your endless collection of black Armani suits? Nothing better to project snobbish and boring."

And with that, it begins. Sebastian doesn't mention his husband again, and doesn't have another drink. As for Kurt, he almost forgets to be mad at Blaine for abandoning him.

* * *

Kurt gets the package a couple of weeks later, while Blaine – sans Tom, which is actually a miracle – and Rachel are at his place, drinking martinis and eating ice-cream while gossiping their afternoon away.

"And then Isabella tried to _sing_ my part," Rachel is saying, "as if she could just pull something like that off. She's not even my understudy!"

"No, she did _not_!" Kurt answers, placing a hand on his chest after resting the package on the coffee table.

"Are you making fun of me, Kurt Hummel?" she says, nose high in the air.

"Absolutely."

She huffs and Blaine laughs next to her, getting a half-hearted pinch for his troubles. He squeaks, mumbling something about _being abused in this relationship_, and chooses wisely to divert the attention by pointing towards Kurt.

"What's that?" he asks.

Kurt shrugs, busy as he is tearing though the brown paper of the package. He hadn't actually been expecting anything, but one of the perks – and sometimes curses – of somewhat having a name is that he gets all kinds of crazy stuff in the mail: from sketches to dildos. This time, though, the brown paper reveals a bright colored painting. Stuck to the plastic that covers it, there's a simple note:

_Thought someone who at least liked it should have it. – S._

"Who sent it?" Blaine asks, looking alternately at the painting and at Kurt.

"I–" Kurt starts. "I don't know."

It takes Rachel about two seconds to start squealing. "A secret admirer! A good one this time… unlike the creepy dildo guy."

"Which we are never discussing again," Kurt says.

"Which we are never discussing again," she repeats.

It's a physical effort to hold onto the information for the rest of their afternoon together. Kurt knows exactly who has sent the painting, and for some reason can't bring himself to share the knowledge with his two best friends. Kurt is… dumbfounded, and perhaps a little overwhelmed. What had possessed Sebastian to send him something as expensive and as thoughtful as this was he couldn't know, but it makes it harder to breathe.

* * *

Kurt doesn't see Sebastian for a while after that. Time moves fast for them, and sometimes their schedules are so hectic that for weeks the phone is their only way of communication. Sebastian travels a lot, too (and he'd tried explaining his cases, he had, but Kurt could admit to never paying attention) and so the painting is hanged where Kurt can look at it, even if he can't find the moment to thank Sebastian face to face.

By the time Thanksgiving rolls around they haven't seen each other yet. It isn't the first thing on Kurt's mind, busy as he is preparing for a trip back to Ohio and used as he has gotten to the sight of the painting.

Rachel is staying in New York and having Thanksgiving with a few of her fabulous friends, which include Blaine, Tom, Sebastian and Drew, and would have included Kurt if only he hadn't been adamant about going back to Lima. He's tried doing the whole staying in New York thing, but even if the thought of Lima still makes him uncomfortable, spending the holiday without his dad is not an option.

Everything about going back home feels wrong, even if Kurt can't bear the thought of life without his dad. He feels paranoid in the streets of Lima, and mostly sad inside the house. Dad and Carole and their fantastic marriage, as well as Finn and his pregnant wife, are an almost constant reminder of the gripping loneliness he feels in his everyday life. Thinking of Rob is unavoidable, as much as it had been at Blaine's wedding, and he hates that his time with his family has to be tainted by the pain of his line of unsuccessful relationships.

He does his best at enjoying himself, though, and he'd thought he'd pulled it off until the last night, when his dad corners him in the living room.

"What's up with you, kid?" he asks, and Kurt can do nothing but curl his hands around his mug of hot chocolate and shrug.

"I'm good, dad." When that gets him a sided-eyed incredulous look, he continues, "really. I have a lot of work with the show that's coming and everything, but I'm happy."

"Come on, Kurt, I know you better than that."

Kurt sighs, defeated. He stays quiet, watching his dad sit next to him with slow movements.

"It's just–" he starts, unsure of how to follow until he looks at his dad. "I spent so long wanting to hold someone's hand and to go to prom and all that, and now that I have all the possibilities in the world, I'm still alone. It's like I'm cursed to have the worst relationships ever. I couldn't even make it with _Blaine_, for God's sakes."

"Now come on, Kurt, don't throw yourself a pity party. So you've had a couple of bad experiences, so what? You keep looking until you find someone who deserves you."

Kurt wants to laugh and cry with the same intensity. Instead, he chooses to hug his father and mumble, "Okay, dad."

Maybe his father isn't right, but Kurt can live on his faith alone.

* * *

Two days after getting back to New York, he runs into Rob. He's having coffee with Blaine and Sebastian, and he's so busy staring at Sebastian and looking for any kind of sign thrown his way, that he doesn't see Rob until he's right in front of their table.

"Hello, Kurt," he says, looking at him. After a beat, he murmurs, "gentlemen."

Kurt has almost forgotten how dismissive Rob can sound in just one word.

"We haven't spoken in a while," Rob continues, "maybe we should–"

"No, we shouldn't."

Kurt spies the smile that's starting to curve Rob's lips, and stands up before it can be fully formed. Rob follows, coffee in hand and pretty curls jumping softly around his head. He's short and handsome, and he has a kind face that can get him almost anything. There's a bit of a resemblance to Blaine that Kurt has always chosen to ignore, especially when he feels like punching him in the face.

"I was just going to suggest getting some coffee," Rob says once they find a quiet corner in the coffee shop, far away from Blaine and Sebastian.

"I don't want to get coffee with you," he says, "I don't want anything from you, and I swear that if you pout I will punch you."

Rob lifts his hands and takes a step back. There's still a smile on his face and he looks charming, devastatingly pretty. Kurt hates himself for still being able to want him.

"If that's the way you want it to be," is the last thing Rob says before exiting the coffee shop.

Kurt is suddenly angry. Angry at Rob, but mostly at himself, for feeling weak and lonely and thinking him pretty after putting him through the toughest break-up in the world. Kurt walks back to his table, and picks up his stuff with quick, sharp movements.

"I'm going home," he announces.

"Kurt, come on, you can't let him–"

"Save it, Blaine, ok? I _know_. But I'm going to, I don't know, channel my anger into awesome designs or something. Or go get drunk."

"Um, do call if you choose the second," Sebastian says, lifting his coffee cup as if it was the finest of scotches.

Kurt snorts. "Will do."

* * *

Channeling his anger into his work turns out not to be such a bad idea. Kurt usually works at night, when there's less noise and the city feels as if it has stopped moving for a long second. With a bottle of wine and a head full of unwanted thoughts, he isn't surprised when he looks at the clock and finds out that it's half past one in the morning. He groans, his bones feeling suddenly tired, and drops all his weight on the couch. There's a big show coming, but the timing is right for his career, and if it turns out right, maybe he can start thinking about setting up an actual honest to god store.

There's a knock on his door then, and it takes him a couple of seconds to register it. He opens the door to find Sebastian behind it, coat hanging loose on his slumped shoulders and hair a little bit wild from combing his fingers through it one too many times. It looks soft, Kurt thinks, and then manages to snap himself out of his trance.

"Seb?"

"Good call, Sherlock," is the answer he gets before Sebastian pushes his way into the apartment. He's already pulling his coat off by the time Kurt has closed the door. "Working late?"

"I always work late," Kurt answers. And then, "What are you doing here, Seb?"

Sebastian shrugs, as if showing up at this hour at his apartment is all kinds of normal. As if showing up at his apartment, period, is somehow normal.

"It looks good," Sebastian says finally, walking towards the painting that has already become a regular part of Kurt's living room. He leans on the desk that's under it, as if trying to appreciate it.

Kurt doesn't know what to say, if he should thank him or ask him what the hell that had been about. He does neither, settling for leaning on the desk next to Sebastian and saying, "Yes, it does."

Sebastian smells nice, of warmth, cologne and a touch of liquor. Kurt's hyperaware of his presence for some reason, unused to this quiet, incomprehensible part of Sebastian.

"Do you still love him?" Sebastian asks, leaning his hip on the desk so that he's facing Kurt.

"Who, Rob?"

"Yes."

"No."

"I just can't figure you out," Sebastian says. "Sometimes I could swear you still want Blaine, and then your ex shows up and it unsettles you like that."

"Well, it's not one or the other. What is it to you, anyway?"

Sebastian shrugs, the movement small and tired. Kurt looks at him steadily, trying to figure out the tangled web that Sebastian's mind must be. He comes up empty.

"You're much more fun to be around when you're happy, Kurt. Bitchy and sharp just the way I like you."

Kurt laughs at that, such a Sebastian thing to say. Sebastian smiles at him, a soft kind of curve that's hard to find on his face these days, and Kurt is invaded by a sudden pang of heat. It pools somewhere low in his stomach, and threatens with making him loose his breath. It's the same feeling he'd gotten when he'd first received the painting, this lack of complete understanding paired with the simplest of desires.

He wants to say something, but when Sebastian crowds close to him, he does nothing. Sebastian is tall and warm and so stupidly handsome that Kurt can't bring himself to stop staring. Tilting his head up for a kiss feels nothing but logical.

Sebastian kisses beautifully, all focus and detail, his lips soft and yielding to the sudden onslaught of Kurt's tongue. Kurt feels fire when Sebastian's arms wrap around him, as if the heat that had been somewhere in his stomach is spreading to every last one of his nerves. It's hard not to kiss desperately, so he doesn't stop himself. He buries his hands in Sebastian's hair, nearly biting him when Sebastian's hands curl on the small of his back and curve his body so it fits Sebastian's taller frame. He can't remember a kiss ever being this erotic.

Kurt feels hazy, as if detached of the world and from the part of his brain that's trying to process the situation. He feels… he _feels_, and there is nothing easier than giving into the heady sensation of Sebastian's wet mouth.

It's the first feeling of coldness that makes him react. When Sebastian's wedding ring touches the skin of his cheek, Kurt gasps, and steps away, pulling himself away from Sebastian's arms.

"You're married," he says, the haze suddenly melting away. "You're married, Seb, _God._"

Sebastian snorts. "It's a sham of a marriage, we all know it. And he cheats, Kurt. All the time."

"I can't, though. I just–after everything–I just can't," Kurt says. He has to stop a second to breathe, and when he manages to continue, he says, "You need to leave."

"Come on, Kurt, let's–"

"Please, Seb, you need to leave."

* * *

It's torture, after that night. He becomes hyperaware of everything that Sebastian does or says, of the precise place his hands are moving towards, of every expression etched on his face. It's hard to say if the undercurrent of tension has always been there and Kurt is just noticing, but it makes him uncomfortable and snappy.

Sebastian is a touchy-feely kind of guy, and it is only now that Kurt is noticing, only because he has stopped touching him. Hands on shoulders while talking, slow friendly bumps, sitting close, thigh to thigh, a soft hand at the small of his back when walking down a busy street; it had always been so easy, so mundane, that Kurt hadn't noticed until now. Because it's gone.

Blaine notices one afternoon at their usual coffee shop. The four of them have actually found the time to meet, and Blaine and Rachel don't seem to be too happy with his constant defensiveness towards Sebastian. When he's gone to get a second cup of coffee, Blaine turns Kurt's way.

"Did something happen?" he wonders, looking at Kurt with a pair of hazel eyes that seem capable of discovering any lie.

Kurt sighs, rubbing his eyes softly. "I'm just stressed with work. Seb's just the easiest target for my snappiness."

It looks as if Blaine believes the simple explanation. If he sees him look away when Sebastian comes back, then he doesn't say a word.

* * *

Two nights later, they all go see Rachel's show, Tom and Drew tagging along. They made a pact, some night that involved a lot of alcohol and not enough memories, that they would go see Rachel's shows at least once a month, no matter how long they lasted – how Blaine managed to spin this pact into them watching his kid's musicals and show choir competitions is still a mystery. It's the fourth time they see this one, but Kurt is excited nonetheless, ready to mouth the words and get caught up in the magic of Broadway.

"I shouldn't have to pay for tickets," Sebastian is saying, "I produced the freaking thing."

"Daddy's money did, Seb," Kurt replies. It's meant to be playful, but instead it comes out sharp and accusing.

Sebastian says nothing. A part of Kurt wishes he did, that he gave him an opening to start an all out screaming match. Maybe it would take away the burning behind his eyelids, the one that follows all of Drew's movements while he clings to Sebastian's arm.

The show is marvelous, magical and perfect. After, when they're having drinks, Kurt is feeling anything but magical. The place is low lit and noisy, packed with drunken people. Kurt feels out of place, and looking at Sebastian at the bar, his hand sliding down the arm of a man that is most definitely not his husband, he has a painful flashback to a horrendous night spent at Scandals.

Sebastian's hands are long and pretty, always warm to the touch. They glide easily down the other man's arms, fingers splayed and soft, and Kurt can tell that there's enough pressure for the man to feel them but not enough for him to feel trapped. Kurt does, though. Even looking from the other side of the bar, hands wet from the condensation of his drink, he feels caught in Sebastian's web, unable to look away. When Sebastian looks his way, eyes watery and drunk, Kurt scowls.

Sebastian's husband is somewhere on the dance floor, and Kurt wonders if they even pretend to be a marriage anymore. It doesn't look like it, if Sebastian's roaming eyes are any indication. Kurt knows, without a trace of a doubt, that he's going to take that man, that stranger, to his bed tonight. It burns, somewhere in his chest. He doesn't know if he wants to slap or kiss Sebastian, doesn't know if the harsh clash of his hand on flesh would be more or less satisfying than one of Sebastian's wonderful kisses.

He runs away, in the end. A quick goodbye to Blaine and Rachel, a nasty look thrown Sebastian's way, and he's out in the street.

* * *

Sebastian shows up at his place later that night. He looks disheveled and tired, but sober enough to throw a murdering look Kurt's way.

"What? Didn't stay long enough to cuddle?" is the first thing Kurt asks. There's venom in his voice, and he hates it.

"I didn't sleep with him, not that it's any of your fucking business, Hummel."

Kurt says nothing, and Sebastian pushes his way into the apartment. It's late, and Kurt barely bothered to turn on any lights, so the shadows play games on Sebastian's features. He looks half-desperate and half-angry, and so beautiful in his contradiction. Something jumps in Kurt's stomach, and he has to look away.

"You can't just stand there, looking at me and _judging _me. You don't want to sleep with me? _Fine_. But get off your high horse, princess." Sebastian looks at him, his eyes hard and unyielding.

"I wasn't–"

"Yes, you were!"

Kurt stares, unsure. He's still standing by the door, studying Sebastian's figure as he mumbles something about judgmental, prudish princesses and his stupid obsession with them. Kurt wants him so much it hurts.

"Look, Seb, you're right," he says. "I'm sorry." It's insincere. He had been jealous, and he feels petty for it, but he hates that Sebastian can even hold the thought of someone else after they kissed not one month ago.

Sebastian snorts. Kurt's transparent in his emotions, has always been, and doesn't know how to hide himself from Sebastian. He thinks he might not want to, and that if Sebastian makes a move again he won't know how to stop him.

Sebastian does.

He moves fast and purposefully towards him, crowding him against the door with his taller frame. He smells good and feels warm even before touching Kurt, and Kurt can't stop himself from looking up into his eyes and giving almost explicit permission. He expects aggression, considering Sebastian's anger, and instead gets softness. Sebastian's descent on his mouth is slow and careful, but Kurt waits it out, let's himself be surrounded by everything that is Sebastian. He curls his hands on Sebastian's arms, bringing him close, as close as he can, and kisses him.

It's so easy to let go after that.

Their desperation burns slow and sure, walking them towards the bedroom, half-naked and almost drunk on each other. The pleasure builds hot and slow and torturous, and by the time Kurt is coming, face buried against a pillow and Sebastian's body covering his, pressing him hot and nice against the bed, he can barely remember how they even got here.

"_God_, Kurt," Sebastian says later, when they are laying close together on the bed, breathing still hard and sweaty limbs tangled together. "You fuck like a dream."

Kurt laughs, sudden and bubbly. "Who even _talks_ like that, Seb?"

"Oh, shut up, princess."

Sebastian kisses him again, and then more until Kurt can't breathe or think. The night feels too short for all the exploration they want to do, but for now, it's all they have.

* * *

It's easy then to fall into a routine, and to forget the rest of the world. They make Kurt's apartment their meeting place, and they see each other whenever they can. All Kurt has to do is close his mind to the rest of the world, temporarily forget that Sebastian is married, that he has daddy issues and that he drinks too much. He just has to forget that his loneliness feels even more present now that he can only have Sebastian for short periods of time in his bedroom.

The thing is, when it's good, it's _very good._

There's a simplicity to their relationship, born of playful banter and a lack of fear of speaking the truth. Sebastian smiles around him, doesn't drink, doesn't look as if he's carrying the world on his shoulders.

Sebastian has a cluster of five freckles on his right shoulder, close together and almost forming the shape of a star. Kurt loves them, and pushes his fingers against them often, watching the skin turn white with the pressure. Everything about Sebastian is pretty, but nothing quite like the soft smile that he wears when they're doing nothing but laying naked together in bed.

That's easy too, being naked around Sebastian. Kurt's never felt entirely comfortable with spending long hours without clothes on, always a little too self-aware, a little insecure. He welcomes the nudity around Sebastian, is more than happy to spend hours talking and watching movies while being able to touch and be touched. He feels free, liberated.

Except, of course, that then Sebastian leaves his place, and reality comes rushing back to his forgetful mind.

* * *

"I found the love of my life," Rachel declares, sloshing her margarita in her excitement.

"You find the love of your life every two months," Kurt replies.

Blaine just laughs, happy to leave them to their more than usual discussion. He isn't any help anyways, since every time he intervenes is just to praise the amazing power of love. Even if said love is nothing but Rachel's flavor of the week.

"But this is the one, Kurt, I'm telling you," she continues, pointedly ignoring Kurt's eye rolling. "He's _so _hot."

"And your criteria so specific."

"You're grumpy today, Kurt," she says. "Do you want me to remind you how fabulous you are?"

"It wouldn't hurt."

Blaine jumps into the conversation at that, eyes shining bright. "Can we do it in song? I haven't serenaded you in forever."

Rachel claps next to him before Kurt can begin saying, "Oh my God, _no_. No public singing, Blaine, we've been through this."

They end up singing, though, because it's Rachel and Blaine and they somehow always manage to find a place that hosts a karaoke or an open mic night. Kurt even gets up and sings with them, if only to make them shut up. He feels Sebastian's absence like a living thing, crawling somewhere close to his heart. He tells himself that it is only because he would have helped him calm down the singing show that Rachel and Blaine are.

He says goodbye to his friends outside the bar and takes a cab home. It's late, almost two in the morning, but he still finds Sebastian slumped on his door, one of his best suits rumpled and his eyes closed.

"Seb? What are you doing here?" he says. "You know I was meeting Rachel and Blaine for some drinks."

Sebastian's eyes are glassy when he opens them, bright and gorgeous even when clearly drunk. Kurt wants to sigh. Instead of that, he just finds his keys and goes to open the door. Sebastian hugs him almost immediately, hands snaking around his waist and pressing low against his stomach, right where he knows Kurt likes. He presses his face against Kurt's neck and mouths softly at the skin, lips open and wet. Kurt fights a shiver.

"Not when you're this drunk, Seb," he says.

Sebastian doesn't listen, and just stays close. Kurt doesn't feel threatened by it, can't find it in himself to be scared of the softness of Sebastian's mouth, but the alcohol he can smell on his breath puts him off, and makes him push Sebastian away with an awkward elbow.

"Stop it, Seb."

"Kurt, come–"

"I said stop it."

Sebastian steps away at the same time that Kurt opens the door. He misses his presence already, alcohol smell and everything, and feels a little bit cold. When Sebastian doesn't come in immediately, Kurt grabs the lapels of his coat and pulls him in.

"You need a shower, and then you need to sleep this off," he says. It's easy to step into ordering, caring mode, even more when Sebastian complies without a question.

He drops half his clothes in the living room, and Kurt is distracted enough by the suddenly naked skin that he forgets to say anything about clothes being carelessly dumped on his sofa.

"What happened, Seb?" he whispers softly right before Sebastian makes his way into the bathroom.

Without looking back, Sebastian says, "Family dinner."

* * *

Next morning, Sebastian is nursing a hangover that clearly isn't strong enough to stop him from ridding Kurt of his clothes and spreading his legs for him while murmuring dirty soft words against his ears. Kurt goes slow, languidly feeling his way over Sebastian's body until they are both trembling with need. The soft puffs of Sebastian's breath on Kurt's neck feel warm and lovely, so much that Kurt is forgetting again how wrong everything about them is.

"Why do you let your father affect you so much?" Kurt asks later that morning. They've had breakfast and coffee and are laying down on bed, kissing and talking and being too lazy to do much more than that.

Kurt spies Sebastian closing up as soon as he poses the question. He knows something angry or cynical is coming his way, but Kurt wants to know what would prompt a man like Sebastian to marry a man he clearly can't stand just because his last name pleased his father. Everything about his relationship with Smythe senior seems to be toxic, from Sebastian's choice of career to his need to drink himself stupid whenever he sees him.

"Because he's my father, Hummel," Sebastian offers at last, and honestly, that's something Kurt doesn't have an argument against.

* * *

It hits Kurt while they're watching a movie. It's two weeks after Sebastian's last family dinner, and Sebastian has been making a point of not drinking around Kurt, and has been substituting the habit with his other obsession: greasy Chinese food. He had shown up at Kurt's in time for dinner carrying enough food to feed an army and claiming it was movie night.

"And I don't care how much you pout or beg, Kurt, I'm _not _watching a musical that's older than both of us put together."

They end up watching a musical, anyway, and Kurt puts up with Sebastian's scathing comments because he's seen it so many times already that he knows it by heart. And that's when it hits him, while eating greasy Chinese and watching an old musical. Sebastian's hand is resting high on the inside of his thigh, familiar and possessive, and everything about them is so freaking domestic that it's almost scary. And how easy it would be to come back to this every night, to wake up next to Sebastian and his smooth chest, to kiss him good morning and bitch at him when he said something stupid, to be angry at his father when he made Sebastian feel desperate enough to drink endlessly.

Sebastian's wedding ring has never looked brighter to Kurt, and the reality of their situation has never hit him harder.

Sebastian yelps when Kurt takes his plate away and perches on his lap. Kurt kisses him, sudden and desperate, hyperaware of the end date that this thing has, scared for his own heart.

"Hey, hey – Is everything ok?" Sebastian asks.

Kurt swallows, and nods.

* * *

He meets Blaine for coffee a March afternoon. They haven't seen much of each other since Christmas, aside from a few drinking dates with Rachel, and Kurt cherishes their quiet moments to just talk. Blaine asks about his family, and Kurt spends over an hour talking about his trip back to Ohio during Christmas.

"I miss your dad, you know?" Blaine says during a pause, eyes on the table. "Yours and Rachel's are the only two good families I actually know."

"Oh, Blaine…" Kurt turns his lips down, reaching for Blaine's hand and squeezing softly.

Blaine's family is perhaps comparable to Sebastian's, and Tom's has never been accepting of his son's homosexuality, so Blaine has found himself nearly parentless through the years. He never even managed to make his relationship with Cooper happen, and sometimes he gets this sort of melancholia around his eyes that is entirely too similar to Sebastian's.

"You can always come visit," Kurt says. "You know dad still loves you, and that Carole will force feed you under the pretense of you being too skinny. They won't even mind if you bring Tom."

"We should do that, sometime. Thanks, Kurt."

Kurt smiles at him, suddenly invaded by the thought of bringing Sebastian home to his family, of showing him the way a father is supposed to behave.

"What's up with you, Kurt?" Blaine asks after a second of silence. "You seem… off. You've been off for a while now."

"What? Nothing at all."

"Come on, Kurt, I know you better than that."

Kurt snorts, bringing his nose up high mockingly. "You know nothing, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine laughs, but the stubborn set of his eyes tells Kurt that he won't settle just with that. "I know that no one appreciates my bowties but you, I know that you miss your family more than you let on, I _know_ that you think my husband is dumb–" Kurt tries to protest, but Blaine continues over him, "–and I know that there's something going on with you."

Kurt opens and closes his mouth slowly. He figures Blaine won't push if he insists on denying everything, but the part of him that's been bursting with the need to say something is screaming loud inside his head.

"I–" he starts. "I have been sleeping with Sebastian."

It sounds almost sordid when he says like that.

"Kurt! He's–"

"Married, I know, alright? And every other negative thing you have to say about this I've already thought about, so don't bother."

So Blaine doesn't. He doesn't say a thing, and simply squeezes Kurt's hand as hard as he can.

* * *

Next time they go out, it's the four of them plus both husbands and Rachel's latest boyfriend. Kurt feels awkward and inadequate, not so much at being the only single person in the group but at being so acquainted with Sebastian's naked body that it's hard to keep a straight face around his husband. Blaine's looking at Sebastian with something akin to judgment as well, and no matter how good his intentions, Kurt wishes he would just stop.

It's almost a pleasant night, with them having dinner and then a few drinks. The club they end up at is quiet and simple, Kurt's kind of place. Sebastian spends half the night perched next to the bar, nursing a drink and looking down at his own hands. It's a while before Kurt can find an excuse to got stand next to him.

"What's up with you, Seb?" he asks.

"Did you tell Blaine?" he looks nervous when he asks, distant, too. He doesn't wait for Kurt to answer. "Are you out of your mind, princess? We're supposed to be keeping a low profile and now I have Mr. Morality looking at me as if I've killed a puppy."

"Oh, are we supposed to be keeping a low profile? I wasn't aware of that, Seb. It's not like we've actually discussed a thing."

Kurt's angry, he knows, and keeping his tone of voice low is an effort. Sebastian, half drunk as he is, doesn't seem to care so much.

"It's called having an affair, princess."

Kurt sees red after that. He has enough presence of mind to drag Sebastian out of the place and into the cool night air. He yells at him, choked up pieces of a conversation he's been having with himself in his mind for these past few months. There's a lot of _you want me to believe it was just sex _and even more of _you couldn't be a bigger asshole if you tried. _There are also tears at some point, but Kurt can't bring himself to think about them, not when the screaming match ends up in them walking their separate ways.

* * *

After that night, it stops. Sebastian doesn't show up at his doorstep, and they don't argue or watch movies or spend full nights laying naked in bed. Kurt misses it, misses _him. _He misses the curve of his smile, the languid sound of his voice, his stupid comments about Kurt's movies, Kurt's fashion choices, Kurt's bitchiness. He misses his hands, his chest and his cock. He misses long, slow afternoons when it had felt like what they had was real.

Blaine bears the brunt of his sadness. He talks to his dad and Rachel a lot more than usual, but he can't bring himself to tell them about his failed affair with a married man. Blaine, though, listens to long diatribes about the feelings Kurt's been burying for months, putting up with talks of Sebastian's smile, of how amazing they were when Sebastian let go of all of his self-imposed duties. He also lets Kurt cry, and holds him through the pain.

* * *

Life goes on, though. Kurt's job is at a high point now, so he keeps busy. Sebastian has made a point of avoiding their meetings, so Kurt goes see Rachel perform and Blaine's kids without fear of running into him. Rachel asks about his sudden absence, but is easily convinced that nothing's going on by talks of work and meetings.

Kurt's sadness begins to turn into nostalgia, and when it hits him, he doesn't think about Rob anymore, but about Sebastian. It's harder now, because he doesn't even have a layer of anger to fall back on. They said many things that last night, but Kurt had to admit that at least one thing was true: Sebastian had never promised him anything.

In early June he goes home to attend the birth of his first niece. Finn's nervousness and giddiness are contagious, and Kurt almost forgets to be sad. It's harder though, when things are quieter and Kurt is left alone in his room, thinking about the dreams he held as a teenager, and how he'd never factored feeling this lonely into them. He also thinks about seventeen year old Sebastian, a cocky boy who had the world at his feet.

* * *

He sees Sebastian two and a half months after that last night. It's Blaine that calls him, and says:

"Sebastian's father died."

There's a long story about a battle against cancer that Sebastian never mentioned, adamant as he had been about never talking about his father. Kurt barely listens to it, busy booking a flight back to Ohio. When he arrives at Sebastian's family home back in Westerville, all the services are over and all of his family is already gone. Kurt goes through a sort chat with Sebastian's mom and a too long one with his husband (_I mean, honestly, he didn't even like the guy, Kurt, I don't know what the depression is about_) before he gets to see him, dressed in nothing but an old pair of sweatpants and laying down on his old bed.

Sebastian doesn't even move when he spots him, so Kurt takes off his jacket and goes lie down next to him. The bed is a single, and it's hard to fit in it, but Kurt knows his way about Sebastian's body, and it's easy to mold himself to his prone form and rest his head on his chest. It takes a while, but Sebastian wraps himself around him and starts crying quietly.

"I don't get it," he says. "I hated the guy."

"He was still your father," Kurt says.

That night, they have sex with Sebastian's mother and husband sleeping in the same house. Kurt doesn't even stop to think about it when Sebastian peels off his sweater, his hands half trembling and unsure. It's soft, and nice, and when Sebastian gasps quietly in the surrounding darkness, Kurt tangles their fingers, and doesn't let go.

* * *

They go back to New York together, Drew an awkward presence in the easy comfort they have found in each other. A week later, Sebastian files for divorce.

"It's not a happy ending," Sebastian tells him. He's holding a bouquet of roses and wearing an uneasy smile. He's still a bored lawyer with too much money and a tired tilt to his smile, he still has daddy issues and drinks too much, but Kurt loves him, and loves the future that he has seen for them.

"I guess it's a beginning, then."


End file.
